


To Help A Fish Out of Water

by KomaruNaegi



Category: Splatoon
Genre: 14-crush, Amnesia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Octo Expansion DLC, Octo Expansion DLC Spoilers, POV Second Person, Sanitization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25454290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KomaruNaegi/pseuds/KomaruNaegi
Summary: Your name is Mizuta Ahato, and you are have finally arrived at Central Station.What you don't know is that you are about to lose everything.A work set during Octo Expansion, based on the Tumblr askblog14-crush.
Relationships: Agent 8 & Dedf1sh
Kudos: 13





	To Help A Fish Out of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Particularly inspired by the [first meeting](https://14-crush.tumblr.com/post/178803803317/howdy-pardners-how-did-yall-meet-and-saddle-up) and [most recent](https://14-crush.tumblr.com/post/190597282127/ma-1520) 14-crush updates.
> 
> **Contains depictions of psychological abuse.**

You are seventeen years old when you first go to the metro.

Out of your home, you feel lonely. After all, you are but a single octoling in the large, hollow chamber that is the metro’s Central Station.

It is grim, dank, and most of all, creepy. You feel like whatever is supposed to take you to the surface should be more... ornate? No, that’s not the right word. Colorful? Updated? Friendly?

None of the words are right, but you decide to stop trying. You spot a strange looking telephone a few feet away from the platform. It begins talking to you.

“Wassup, my home shizzle? You lookin’ to snag a gnarly ride to the land up above?”

“To the surface?”

“ _Fo’ sho!_ But this ain’t no one way ticket deal, nuh-uh! You gotta—“

The speaker starts fizzling out. For a moment, you think it might be broken.

“Nevermind,” you say to the telephone. It’s not like it can hear you. It’s just some strange AI, programmed to respond to certain keywords.

“I... I just wanted to show someone my music. It’s not very good yet, but—“

“You got beats?” the telephone says, astounded. “Why didn’t you say so, homie? Gimmie a sample, dog!”

“Um... Okay,” you say, pulling out your phone.

You’d later come to regret that decision.

* * *

You look at the peculiar device in your hands. A CQ-80, apparently. On the back, there’s small text that reads “ **EMPLOYEE MODEL.** ” You consider yourself lucky.

This thing has a camera function, right? Maybe you could just make a short little video diary. Just something for safekeeping.

You mess with the joystick until you finally find the camera app. You prop up the device using the joystick and lean it against a wall, just in case.

You press record and start speaking, ready to begin your legacy as Dedf1sh.

You wouldn’t realize the irony behind the name you’d chosen until much later.

* * *

“ _Ahato._ ”

You’re playing with your turntables and humming some tune you can't remember the name of when your superior calls you. She’s wearing this funny looking visor.

Back then, you would’ve questioned such a strange fashion choice, but you’ve learned that most of your questions don’t get answers.

You wish people would refer to you by your first name once in a while.

“Yeah?” you say, confused, “what is it, ██████?”

“█████ wants you,” she says, her tone cold and inexpressive, “in Room 404. You’re to come alone. Leave your CQ-80 here.”

“Huh?” you ask, “Why do I have to be alone?”

“ _Now_ , Ahato,” your superior says. “You can’t keep dawdling or you’re going to be demoted.”

“I’m not dawdling, I just like to get in the zone and switching tasks is hard for me and—“

██████ grabs your wrist, and she grabs it hard.

“J-Just one second!”

You don’t know why, but you set your CQ-80 into recording mode with your free hand underneath your turntable. ██████ thankfully doesn’t notice.

You place the device on your turntable, and then reluctantly follow her as she drags you away.

* * *

When you come out of Room 404, you are a monster.

Your skin is this putrid, ultraviolet green. Your fingers are stained black. The stupid visor on your head makes it hard to see. Your head hurts so much—it reminds you of a watermelon, rubber bands wrapped around the midsection one at a time until it pops.

You feel like you are about to pop.

██████ makes her way into the room. She’s green just like you, but she looks, better, somehow. Like it fits her.

“I’ve been ordered to collect your CQ-80 device.”

“No, please,” you plead, still slumped over on your turntable. You are so cold, yet, somehow, ██████ is colder.

“You have work to do, as do I. Now, give it to me—“

And that’s when you pop. (Or something like that.)

* * *

The days are all the same now. You mix tunes, and that’s it. You are living the ideal life. You are alive and you are doing what you love, and no one is here to stop you.

(No one is here to save you either, but it’s not like you’re trying to get out. It’s not like you can, even if you tried.)

“Hello? Anyone in here?”

The soft voice takes you out of your trance. That’s how you’ve felt since that day: entranced. There are no thoughts in your head. It’s empty. It’s dead, just like your DJ name. The fact that you can produce coherent mixes surprises you in your lapses between trances.

“Oh, hey! Is that an Octoling?” the presence says. Where is her sense of danger? You should get rid of her. She’s disturbing your work.

Whatever. You can just work around her.

“Is that a turntable? Neat!” she exclaims, her fingers hovering over the buttons. She gets real close to pushing one of the sliders before recoiling. How annoying.

“Gotcha!” she chirps, like this was all a fun joke. “I dunno anything about music, but I wouldn’t wanna mess you up. I’m sure you’re making some wicked stuff!”

You’re making something, that’s for sure.

“Oh, wait!” she says, still all peppy and excited. “I do know this one song! It’s really good! It really helped me get outta some dark times in my life. I think music can be really powerful like that. We should listen to it!”

“ _Leave_ ,” you say, finally speaking.

“Come on,” she says, “don’t be like that. Have a little listen,” she says, pulling out her phone and putting on a music video.

Before you know it, blue ink is pouring from your eyes. You don’t want to be here. You never wanted to be here. Nothing is right. You’re eighteen and your life is ruined. You could’ve been like these idols that this girl is showing you but instead you’re down here letting some stranger see you at your worst, and oh god the telephone the telephone—

“The telephone!”

You’re going to get caught. This girl is evil, she’s a traitor, _you’re going to die right here right now—_

And then her arms are around you. The feeling of cephalopod embrace, so foreign to you that you just let it happen. You cry and cry and cry and she lets you, holding you tight so you don’t fall.

“You’re fine,” she coos, “the telephone is gone. I’ve still got a lot of work to do, and I’m gonna need your help, but we’re gonna get out of here. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

And even though your brain says it’s wrong, that none of this makes sense and this naivety won’t save you, your heart decides to believe her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank God years of Tumblr use unintentionally taught me just enough HTML to be able to hyperlink, lol.
> 
> Wasn't sure what to tag this one. Also, first time writing Splatoon. I've been super drained from work and I wrote this in one setting, so please let me know what you think.
> 
> And be sure to check out [14-crush](https://14-crush.tumblr.com/tagged/crushpost/chrono) for a wonderful Splatoon AU!


End file.
